


Meet Cute

by lilinas



Series: Sebastian's Bitch [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: BDSM, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Negotiations, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7384648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilinas/pseuds/lilinas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new installment in the Sebastian's Bitch 'verse! How Kurt and Sebastian met and ended up in their crazy, wonderful, kinky relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was definitely not a gay bar.        

Kurt realized his mistake the moment he walked through the door, even before his eyes managed to adjust enough to register that every couple in the place consisted of one man and one woman. He didn’t need his eyes. There was an immediate feeling, a pitch to the voices, an unmistakable sensation of not-what-he’d-expected that hit before the door even latched behind him. He should have simply turned and left, but pride and not wanting to look like an idiot who hadn’t bothered to read the whole Yelp review led him to the long, shining bar where he now sat, alone, sipping the pale pink concoction the heavily-pierced bartender had given him. At least, he thought, it was a scene bar. And scene people tended to be tolerant so he was fairly sure no one would mind him enjoying some of the male scenery while he drank and pretended he’d meant to come here all along.

It was the name that had led him astray. How in the world anyone could name a club _Rump_ elstiltskin and not expect people to assume it catered to the ass-fucking crowd, was beyond his power to understand. A criminal level of false advertising, really. It was such a shame too because the place was perfect in every other way. Punk bartender aside, it looked more like the library of an old-fashioned gentleman’s club than a BDSM bar. Worn leather armchairs dotted the room, interspersed with overstuffed divans and low, polished tables. There was a dance floor but the music was quiet and dreamy; it leant a fantasy quality to the low-key displays of submission and dominance between the patrons. Here and there around the room submissives knelt, some leashed, some serving their dominants in one way or another, but everyone was fully dressed and, some dance-floor grinding and enthusiastic making out aside, nothing explicitly sexual was going on. It was exactly the kind of club Kurt had been looking for. Compared to some of the places he’d been . . . Kurt shook his head and had to suppress a shudder. The less he thought about those experiences the better. It was just his luck that when he finally found a place like this – a place where he could sit and talk and take the time to find just the kind of dominant he needed – it turned out to be a place where no one would be interested in the kind of submission he had to offer.

Well, at least there was eye candy. Some of the male subs had beautiful bodies and he could almost imagine himself in their places, despite the women who held the ends of their leashes. If he was being perfectly honest, pretty much any display of dominance could make Kurt’s belly stir with desire. It had been far too long since he’d been dominated properly. Oh, who was he kidding? He’d never been dominated properly. Not the way he fantasized about. The way he craved. And he wasn’t going to find it in a place like this, no matter how gay the name was. He sighed and turned back to the bar, but before he could put the room fully behind him his eye caught and lingered on a newcomer, just stripping off his jacket and handing it to the coat check girl.

Kurt’s drink was very strong. That was definitely the reason he heard himself give a little whimper when the jacket dropped away from broad shoulders, a long, long torso, and an outright luscious ass wrapped in tight, mildly distressed denim. Luscious _straight_ ass, Kurt reminded himself as he pressed his lips to the rim of his glass to keep himself from making any more involuntary noises. Damn you, irresponsible namers of not-gay bars. Damn you.

It only got harder when the guy turned around and began to make his way into the room. Oh, he was handsome. His legs and neck were just as long as his body and made Kurt wonder if his other parts followed suit. His hair was coiffed in that casual, combed up way that Kurt knew from experience only comes with careful effort. His jeans clung to those long legs so that even from across the room Kurt could see the play of muscle underneath them as he walked. But more than all of this it was his manner that made Kurt’s fingers curl tight around the stem of his cocktail glass. As soon as he stepped away from the coat check it was clear he was a dominant, and not the kind who had to telegraph his status far and wide. No, it was in the way he carried himself, like he knew exactly who he was and expected everyone around him to acknowledge it. Watching him, Kurt would have been happy to have acknowledged it. Preferably from his knees.

No. No. Straight dom, Kurt told himself. But he swiveled on his stool to keep Long and Lean in sight as he moved farther into the room.

The first person to acknowledge the newcomer was a young female dominant who almost ran to him when she caught his eye and flung her arms around him in a hug, which he returned with a grin. The submissive trailing behind her with his hands clasped behind his back stood silently as they greeted each other, but when they pulled away the dreamboat smiled at him as well, and said something that made the submissive blush and bow his head even further.

Kurt whimpered again.

He watched as the dreamboat, obviously a regular, worked the room. He greeted one person after another, lingering with some for longer conversation, but always moving on to the next group. He was popular, Kurt could tell that. Everyone seemed happy to see him, dom and sub alike. Doms were greeted with fist bumps or hugs, and submissives with warm authority and casual little touches that stirred up longing in Kurt’s belly. God, he needed to find someone to take a strap to him ASAP. It was pathetic, sitting here reduced to creeping on a straight guy, flushing with desire just from watching him ruffle the hair of a kneeling sub. And yet he couldn’t help himself. He watched those long legs carry the man attached to them from group to group, until despite his tiny sips he found himself staring at the bottom of his empty glass. He turned back to the bar with a little sigh.

The bartender headed his way and raised an eyebrow to ask if he wanted a refill, but Kurt shook his head. “I’m good,” he said. He fished out his wallet and pushed a bill across the bar. Creeping through one drink was pathetic, two would be outright self-abuse. He needed to go home. On the way he could decide if it would be wrong to masturbate to the idea of being forced to hump one of those long legs until he was aching with need and begging to come. He was already ninety percent sure he was going to decided that it was perfectly okay.

The bartender brought his change and Kurt slipped it into his wallet.

“Dude! About time you got over here! I was starting to worry you’d gone designated driver tonight.”

Kurt looked up from his wallet to find the bartender grinning, his piercings glinting with reflected light. And from the corner of his eye he could see his future masturbatory fantasy standing two barstools away, holding out a fist for yet another bump. He felt himself flush red and turned away, hiding behind the act of shoving his wallet into his pocket.

“Fuck that!” the dreamboat said. “I know what kinds of scotch you’ve got back there. It’s half the reason I come here.”

His voice was higher than Kurt would have expected. Light and unaffected, not intentionally rough like so many dominants. He liked it. No! He didn’t like it. He was leaving. Now. He slid off his barstool.

“So, the usual?” the bartender asked. He sounded hopeful, which was strange, and caused Kurt to linger to see what was up.

The dreamboat must have nodded because the bartender turned and reached for a bottle that even Kurt knew was outrageously expensive. No wonder he’d been afraid the dreamboat wasn’t drinking. The tip alone . . .

Kurt watched, almost hypnotized, as the bartender poured amber liquid into a crystal rocks glass. But the clink of the tumbler hitting the bar in front of the dreamboat snapped him out of his spell. Leaving. That’s right. He was leaving. He wasn’t going to sit here and hope that they might smile at each other, maybe have a little chat. He was gay, the dreamboat was straight, and he was leaving. Except the dreamboat was still talking.

“And one of whatever stereotypically fruity concoction this one is having.”


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt froze, his back to Mr. Not-Quite-So-Dreamy-Anymore. His face flushed hot but icy cold spiked his belly. His hands began to tremble with equal parts anxiety and anger. And despite all of this there was still a corner of his brain that had the space to wonder and despair at the fact that one casual taunt could still reduce him to a terrified high school sophomore.

It was because of the place; that had to be it. He just didn’t expect that kind of homophobic attitude in a scene bar. It caught him by surprise.

While he tried to choose between flight and fight, the bartender drifted into his line of sight holding a glass and a questioning expression. Like this was just another patron buying a drink for someone situation. Like there was nothing to object to. Infuriating, but the lack of aggression in his stance gave Kurt the space he needed to remember who he was.

Kurt fucking Hummel, that’s who.

“This is so exciting!” he faked enthusiasm as he spun around to face the man who suddenly looked much more weasel-y than handsome. “I’ve never met anyone who was raised by wild dogs before!”

Weasel-face managed to look confused without losing his smirk.

Kurt dropped his act. “Well it’s the only reason I can think of that you’d think a comment like that is remotely acceptable.”

Understanding dawned on the not-at-all handsome features. “Oh, come on. Tell me it’s _not_ a stereotypically fruity drink and I’ll take it back.”

“That’s not the –”

“I’d guess appletini.”

“Well you’d be wrong. Not that that matters,” Kurt sputtered.

The guy just raised an eyebrow and waited.

 _Turn around_ , Kurt told himself. _Leave._ But his feet didn’t want to obey him. Neither, apparently, did his mouth. “It’s a cosmo,” he said. He still had enough control over his mouth to mutter it aggressively, at least. Small consolation.

Especially when the man laughed out loud. “Like that’s any less gay,” he said loud enough for everyone at the bar to hear.

Kurt’s hand slapped hard on the polished wood. “No, what’s gay, in case it escaped your virtuoso powers of observation, is _you_ offering to buy _me_ a drink!”

He didn’t recoil like Kurt had hoped he would. He didn’t react at all. He just kept laughing, this time turning to the bartender who was still hovering near them. “Well he’s got me there, Phil.”

The bartender – Phil – nodded. “That is pretty gay, dude.”

Pointy-nose turned back to Kurt. “In fact,” he said, still speaking loudly enough to be heard by everyone, “on the list of things that are gay that I have done, I’d say _me_ buying _you_ a drink falls somewhere above checking out another guy’s ass, but definitely well below actually fucking men.”

Kurt had always thought the idea of a jaw dropping was pure hyperbole. He was wrong.

Somewhere someone laughed out loud, but he was too busy staring at weasel-face, no wait, _gay_ weasel-face, to see who it was.

The smirk widened and flashed back at the bartender. “And now he understands.”

Phil nodded.

“You’re gay?” Kurt asked, stupidly.

“What was that about virtuoso powers of observation?”

“But you’re . . . here.” Kurt managed to move an arm to indicate the club.

“You’re here,” Possibly-Dreamy-Again-But-The-Jury-Was-Still-Out pointed out.

“I made a . . .” Kurt clamped his mouth closed. The last thing he wanted to do at the moment was admit to another fault in his powers of observation.

Too late. Marginally-Dreamy nodded sympathetically. “It was the name wasn’t it? It’s always the name.”

Kurt needed to sit. Luckily there was a barstool right there. And when he climbed onto it there was also a pale pink cocktail sitting on the bar in front of him. He didn’t remember agreeing to the drink. He made his own questioning eyebrows at Phil, who only shrugged and tossed his head in Dreamy’s direction.

Dreamy was still talking. “At least a couple of times a week some poor confused twink wanders in here looking for the rumps.”

“Hey!” Kurt bristled.

“Oh calm down, Princess. I’m merely stating a fact. I was in no way implying that you yourself are a twink.”

He sounded suspiciously patronizing. But it was starting to sink into Kurt’s tossed and tumbled brain that the hot straight dominant whose every move had made him salivate with desire was actually the hot gay dominant who wanted to buy him a drink. Well, nothing ventured, nothing spanked. He picked up the cocktail glass and took a swig.

Dreamy Gay grinned like he’d won. Kurt had to admit he probably had.

“I’m Sebastian,” he said, holding out a hand.

Of course he was Sebastian. He could only be Sebastian. The perfect Victorian-erotica-turned-prep-school-valedictorian name. “Kurt,” Kurt said.

They shook. Sebastian’s hand was warm and soft and just the right size and his fingers curled around Kurt’s palm like a cage, capturing it, and Jesus how strong was that cosmo, anyhow? Kurt pulled back too fast, like he’d been shocked.

“So do you buy a drink for every poor confused homosexual who ends up here?” he asked, trying to be casual.

Sebastian shook his head. “No.” He raised his scotch to his lips and his eyes twinkled at Kurt over the rim of the glass.

Kurt abandoned subtlety. He was still too addled to play coy. “Why me then?”

Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I guess I got tired of waiting for you to stop staring at me and come introduce yourself.”

Fuck. He’d noticed. Kurt felt himself flush again. “Excuse me!” Indignation was always a good offense. “It’s not a gay club. Maybe you grew up in gay Narnia or something but where I come from, coming on to a straight guy is a very, very bad idea.”

For the first time, Sebastian’s smile looked a tiny, tiny bit abashed. “I did figure that out eventually. Hence the drink.”

Kurt had been all prepared for another attack. Sebastian’s admission left him with nothing to say. He sipped at his drink and tried not to squirm under the dominant’s dark-eyed scrutiny. “So why do you come here then?” he asked, trying to throw the ball back into Sebastian’s field, or whatever it was the Finn always used to say. “You’re obviously a regular.”

“You notice that, huh?”

“Virtuoso powers of observation.”

Sebastian acknowledged that with another sly smile. “Well, for a guy like me, this place is heaven.”

“What?” Kurt had to stop his jaw from dropping again.

“You may not be aware of this, but it’s a foundational fantasy of most straight male submissives to be forced to service another man.”

“Really?” Kurt was skeptical. That sounded much too much like porn to be true.

“Mmm-hmmm,” Sebastian nodded wisely. “For a dominant like me, a dominant who likes getting his dick sucked by another guy I mean . . . well, it’s practically a cottage industry.”

Kurt gave up and let his jaw go. “So you come here and just let a bunch of submissives . . .” he couldn’t quite finish the thought. Mostly because, eww. At least that’s what he told himself. It had nothing to do with hating the very idea of a bunch of straight subs getting to kneel at this particular dominant’s feet and worship his cock.

“I’m performing a service to the community. Although I will admit a back-room blow job with no strings attached is nothing to sneeze at.”

“So that’s what you’re looking for? No strings?” It was out before Kurt could stop it. But maybe just as well. He wanted strings. All the strings. If Sebastian didn’t then maybe he needed to finish his drink and move on.

Sebastian evaluated Kurt like he was trying to figure out what the right next move might be. “I didn’t say that. I just said I could enjoy the lack of them.”

“Well I’m surprised I was interesting enough to drag you away from your smorgasbord of orgasmic possibilities,” Kurt said. He hoped he didn’t sound envious, but he was pretty sure he did.

“It does seem unlikely, on the surface, doesn’t it?” Sebastian teased. But before Kurt could bristle he went on, “But it turns out you’re extremely interesting.”

“I am?” Okay, not the smoothest thing Kurt had ever said.

“Mmmm,” Sebastian hummed again, and paused dramatically to sweep his eyes up and down Kurt’s form. “You’re obviously submissive, but you’ve got a mouth on you like no sub I’ve ever met. I can tell you want me, but you’re not even trying to impress me. And then there’s the fact that you bit my head off for implying you were a twink, but had absolutely no reaction at all to me calling you Princess.”

Kurt didn’t even know where to start to respond to any of that. His heart was beating too fast and his brain was stuck on _I know you want me_. It was his ball now, he knew, or his field, whatever they said, and he had no idea what to do with it. It certainly sounded like he was being offered the opportunity to explore . . . things . . . with strings . . . with the dreamiest dom he’d come across in a long time. But that couldn’t be right, could it?

Sebastian mistook his silence. “You should check out Rank and File,” he finally said, too casually. “That place is as gay as they come.”

“I went there once,” Kurt admitted.

“And?”

“And I felt like Bugs Bunny at an Elmer Fudd convention.”

Sebastian laughed loud again. Kurt found that he liked Sebastian’s laugh, when it wasn’t directed _at_ him.

“I can’t decide which of those comparisons is more apropos,” Sebastian said.

“You’ll have to wait till you know me better to decide that,” Kurt returned. Then he blushed again when he realized what he’d just said. He dipped his head to hide in his drink. And maybe to look just the teeniest, tiniest bit submissive.

“Well you should take it as a compliment,” Sebastian said. “After all, submissives are a dime a dozen. If that many doms were pointing their . . . guns . . . in your direction,” he grinned at his joke, “then you must be something special.”

Heat rose in Kurt’s face again. How did Sebastian keep doing that? He tried to cover it by ignoring the compliment. “A dime a dozen?” he said, severely as he could. But his breathy tone surely gave him away.

“Oh come on. You and I both know there are at least twenty submissives out there for every dominant. And it’s probably worse if you’re gay.”

“I don’t care how many there are. I’m . . .” Kurt stopped himself before he could blurt out something very not submissive, especially after what Sebastian had said about his mouth.

But Sebastian grinned at him. “Go ahead. Say it.”

Kurt tossed his head. “I’m one of kind,” he said defiantly.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. He stared at Kurt for a long moment, then slipped off his stool. But before Kurt had time to fear he’d scared him off, he tossed off a smile that was as challenging as Kurt had been confrontational.

“Well in that case, I think we’d better find someplace more private to talk, don’t you?”


	3. Chapter 3

As he followed Sebastian across the club Kurt wondered if this was how it felt to be a celebrity. He was sure that heads were turning in their direction, following their progress through the room. Not obviously, people were trying to be subtle and cool about it, but there was no doubt their passing caused a stir. He could feel it ripple out behind them, not quite a noise but more like the potential for it. A kind of subsonic whispering that he was picking up in prickles under his skin.

People were staring at them.

His first reaction was alarm because of course, gay men, moving together to a private, shadowed corner – life had taught him that when straight people specifically noticed him it was to express disgust, if he was lucky, much worse if he wasn’t. But Sebastian seemed not bothered by it at all and then Kurt remembered that these people were his – he wasn’t sure _friends_ was quite the right word, frequent sex partners perhaps – and so they were well aware of his orientation. That and more. To hear Sebastian tell it, many of them had benefited from that very homosexuality. Which left a much more pleasant but harder to believe conclusion.

Sebastian must have been telling the truth about not coming on to every stray gay who wandered into Rumpelstiltskin. Him bringing someone to a quiet table in the back of the room must be unusual enough that people whispered and craned their necks to see who the lucky submissive was. Kurt straightened his shoulders and held his head higher as they went. The last thing he wanted to do was to give the impression that he was some meek and mild sub boi ready to fall in with Sebastian’s every whim. He wasn’t the lucky one, he told himself firmly. Sebastian was. Or would be if Kurt chose to bestow himself. No, there was nothing desperate about Kurt Hummel. And if that was a lie, well, no one was going to know it but him.

There were little alcoves in the back of the club – far enough from the music and buzz of conversation to create quiet, semi-private spaces. Most were empty, Kurt supposed that was because the night was still young. In the occupied one they passed, a tiny dom with long blonde hair was whispering to her huge submissive. Even with him on his knees she didn’t have to stoop to reach his ear. Kurt couldn’t help imagining what they would look like when he stood up. It or his nerves made him giggle, and Sebastian caught the sound and glanced back at him.

“Don’t laugh,” he said. “She’s fucking vicious. You can’t imagine what she can do to a pair of low-hangers.”

Kurt _could_ imagine, and his current dry spell had been long enough that imagining made him flush hot again. It was probably pointless to hope that Sebastian hadn’t noticed. Lovely. So much for not being desperate. Now he looked needy enough to get turned on by mere proximity to a dominant. A female dominant.

Sebastian steered them to an alcove a safe distance from the other couple. He sat in the leather wing-back, leaving the divan for Kurt. Kurt appreciated the gesture. It was unexpectedly thoughtful of Sebastian to leave some distance between them as they entered into . . . whatever this was going to turn out to be. He was letting Kurt know that for now they were talking. Just talking.

Kurt sat on the chintz upholstered sofa – it was more comfortable than it looked – and, after a quick but fruitless scouting for coasters, put his cocktail glass on the low table. Sebastian still held his whiskey and sipped at it, watching Kurt over the rim of the glass.

“I like this place,” Kurt said, just to have something to say. Better to speak first and not look like he was waiting for Sebastian to proposition him. “Too bad it’s not gay.”

“Gay enough for me,” Sebastian said with a smirk. Kurt wouldn’t have admitted it for anything, but the smirk left him breathless.

“Yes, you’ve already made that point. Eloquently,” Kurt said, letting sarcasm drip into his voice. He was so much more comfortable when he was on the attack, counter-intuitive as that was in his present situation. “But I can’t imagine the doms here just let you go to town on their subs. What do you do when you want . . . more? Rank and File?”

“God, no!” Sebastian grimaced. “I hate that place. Not for the same reason you do, obviously.”

“Then why?”

Sebastian considered. “I don’t much like rules.”

Kurt’s astonishment must have shown because Sebastian’s mouth bloomed into a wicked grin. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, sweetheart. I like _making_ rules just fine. And I _love_ enforcing rules,” he stressed the words like he could see how much they affected Kurt, which he probably could. “I’m just not big on following rules. Even my own, really. The last regular sub I had was always complaining about how I’d change the rules and forget to tell him and then punish him for not following the new rules. It wasn’t fair, he said. I wasn’t being ‘clear about my expectations.’” His long fingers drew contemptuous air quotes around the words. “He couldn’t seem to understand the simple concept that _I_ decide what’s fair or not. That’s one of the reasons he’s no longer my sub.”

Sebastian watched Kurt closely as he talked. He must have seen whatever he wanted to see – a good trick because Kurt himself had no idea what the turmoil he felt inside signified. But Sebastian sat back with a satisfied air and took another sip of his drink, while Kurt’s insides waged a battle between _that is deeply wrong_ and _oh dear God please yes._

“Now a place like Rank and File . . . God, so many rules. And not just for the subs. I get it, I do, but that doesn’t mean I want to participate in it. I’m only interested in arbitrary hierarchies if they consist of just two people and I’m at the top.”

Kurt had to absolutely forbid his hand to tremble as he reached for his drink. He took a much bigger swig than he probably should have, considering he was trying to _keep_ his composure, not lose it. Maybe his submission-starved subconscious had decided to overthrow his reason and take the reins. That certainly seemed to be the outcome Sebastian was goading.

“But we didn’t come over here to talk about leather daddies, did we?” Sebastian asked, casually, like he had no idea of the havoc he was wreaking on Kurt’s mind and body.

“Didn’t we?” Kurt asked. At least he kept his voice steady.

Sebastian ignored Kurt’s attempt at evasion. “You said you’re one of a kind. Was that hubris or experience?”

Kurt licked his lips and watched Sebastian take another sip of whiskey. He caught a glimpse of Sebastian’s tongue, distorted by the thick glass. “Maybe a little of both?” he admitted.

“I like that. It’s honest. I always demand total honesty.” Sebastian’s eyes bore into Kurt’s. He was on it now, making his pitch. He leaned forward, closer, until Kurt felt pinned in his seat. “So what are you looking for?”

“What do you mean?” Kurt’s voice wasn’t quite as steady this time.

“You went to Rank and File. You came here. You got all defensive when I talked about no strings. Which begs the question, what kind of strings do you want, exactly?”

There was a tone of command in Sebastian’s voice and Kurt’s body reacted to it exactly as he was sure Sebastian intended. He was also sure Sebastian didn’t miss the way he had to shift on the sofa to relieve the pressure in his pants.

“I want . . .” but he bit down on the words. Sebastian had already said he wasn’t acting submissive, and although he wasn’t sure what he wanted from Sebastian yet, he was certain he didn’t want to end whatever this was quite so soon.

“What?” Sebastian asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure what I was going to say.”

“Oh, see, now we have a problem Kurt. “ Sebastian sounded disappointed but his eyes looked sharply eager. “Didn’t I just say I demand honesty?”

“You did,” Kurt breathed, before he could stop himself. Like he was already under Sebastian’s command. He tried to tell his body to calm the fuck down, but his body had stopped listening to anyone but Sebastian.

“You know exactly what you were going to say. You just don’t want to say it because it’s not even close to submissive and you don’t want to scare me off.” He shrugged. “I already said you were mouthy and not trying to impress me. Yet here we sit. So why stop now?”

“Fine,” Kurt said. “I want a dominant who deserves me.” It sounded too defensive, so he tossed his head to give it weight.

“Now was that so hard?” Sebastian asked. He was smirking again, because he’d won another round. Kurt wanted to point out that he was being insufferably condescending but he was too busy trying to get his dick to settle down to actually form words. How could one random dominant be so certain what was going on inside his head?

“No,” Kurt murmured obediently instead. He had to bite off a _sir._ He wanted to say sir. He was beginning to suspect that he was seriously fucked. Either that or about to have all his dreams come true. Which might amount to the same thing.

“So who would deserve you, then?” Sebastian asked. “What are you looking for?” He made it sound different this time; a specific question demanding a specific answer.

There were so many things Kurt could have said. And so many things he wasn’t sure he wanted to say. His fantasies were dark and deep, deeper and darker than he’d even let himself fully explore. How could he just lay them out in the cold light of day (or the dim light of this bar) for a total stranger to peruse and comment on? Did he even want to take that trip down into the caverns of his desires? And if, as he was starting to suspect, Sebastian was the kind of dominant who could give him even half of what he longed for – was that something he wanted to run toward or retreat from at full panic speed?

Unfortunately, Kurt’s mouth was fully on the side of his subconscious. Before he’d even finished his thought he realized that he’d already spoken.

“No one ever pushes me.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Ah-ha! Now we’re getting somewhere.”

If Kurt’s accidental admission had left him keyed up and off-balance, it had the opposite effect on Sebastian. He relaxed back into his chair, stretched out his long legs and propped his feet on the coffee table like he was settling into his own living room. The fact that the shoes were expensive Italian leather didn’t keep Kurt from shuddering at the sight of his heels resting on the polished wood.

“We are?” he asked, abandoning pretense. There didn’t seem to be any point in trying to act cool. If they were moving in _that_ direction Kurt figured he’d better be very much himself.

Sebastian nodded and took another slow sip of his drink. He drew it out deliberately, playing with Kurt’s nerves. Everything about him shouted dominant slipping into his comfort zone and Kurt’s body responded eagerly. He found himself moving to the very edge of the couch, positioned to fall onto his knees at any moment. He forced himself to lean back again, trying to match Sebastian’s casual nonchalance.

If Sebastian noticed his internal struggle, he didn’t react to it. “Why do you think that is?” he asked. “Why doesn’t anyone push you?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt replied.

“I don’t think that’s strictly true. I think you do know. You just either haven’t accepted it, or you don’t want me to have that much information about you. We’ve already established,” he went on, not pausing, like he already knew Kurt wasn’t going to answer, “that you don’t exactly walk around screaming submissive who wants to be pushed. So what is it?” This time he gave Kurt time, sipping at his whiskey while Kurt kept his lips pressed tight together. There were so many things he could say, but he had no idea which of them he wanted to reveal to Sebastian.

“When you say _pushed_ , maybe what you really mean is _forced._ ”

“No!” Kurt’s denial was swift and instinctive.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow that clearly questioned whether it was too swift.

“I don’t,” Kurt insisted. “That’s not what I want.”

“Then what?”

Dark eyes pinned Kurt, demanding answers, and suddenly it was all too overwhelming and too close to things Kurt had only fantasized about. Not force, that wasn’t it, but Sebastian was pushing and even though that was exactly what Kurt had said he’d wanted, it was different now with an actual dominant giving him that look and offering possibilities. He pushed to his feet too fast and tottered as his head swam – how strong was that drink? He had to reach out for the arm of the couch to steady himself. “This was probably a bad idea,” he stammered as he waited for his head to clear. “I should just go . . .”

“Kurt.”

It wasn’t loud but it snapped with command and it sounded so _good_ coming out of Sebastian’s mouth, the T clipping hard at the end. Kurt’s head swung toward Sebastian before he could stop it.

“Sit.”

Kurt sat. He must have looked as startled as he felt because Sebastian relaxed again and smiled with a warmth Kurt hadn’t seen from him yet.

“Try to relax, okay. Nothing’s happening tonight. We’ve both been drinking. But if something did happened between us eventually, well, you’re going to be trusting me with a whole lot more than your thoughts, right?”

Kurt felt himself nod.

“So why not just tell me? And then at least if you decide to walk away you’ll know you gave it a shot.”

Kurt stared at Sebastian for a long moment. Sebastian just kept smiling in that new and reassuring way. He was right, of course. They were only talking. Nothing had to happen. Not unless they both wanted it.

“I _don’t_ want to be forced,” Kurt said at last. “That’s not what it’s about.”

“What is it about?”

“It’s hard to put it into words.”

“Try.”

Kurt tried. “I’m . . . who I am. This is me. All of it. All my life people have been telling me I have to change and I never would. And I won’t now. I know I’m not exactly every dominant’s fantasy submissive. Most of the men I’ve been don’t even begin to understand me. They either tiptoe around me like I’m going to bite their heads off –“

“I can’t imagine why.”

Kurt ignored Sebastian’s interruption. “. . . or jump to the same conclusion you did and go all KGB agent on me. I’ve never met anyone who could see my inside under my outside.” He tossed his head at Sebastian. “That’s the dominant who’ll deserve me. The one who can see me. Because I’m not going change who I am for anything. Certainly not for sex. Maybe it doesn’t make any sense or maybe I’m asking too much. But I just want someone who can see what I have to offer.”

Sebastian was still smiling but the intent behind it shifted. The warmth faded, replaced by a kind of predatory excitement that made Kurt’s heartbeat pick up pace. “So you want someone who can appreciate the bitch face, but who won’t let it stop him from making you _his_ bitch and taking you down until you’re groveling on your belly kissing his feet.”

The breath froze in Kurt’s chest and he couldn’t have spoken if he’d tried.

Luckily it seemed that Sebastian didn’t expect him to speak. His grin had gone completely feral. “Okay,” he said, drawing it out into a purr. “Let’s play.”

“What does that mean?” Kurt found enough breath to ask. Sebastian couldn’t have missed the way the words trembled.

Sebastian pulled his legs down off the coffee table and in one sinuous move slipped out of his chair and onto the divan next to Kurt, so close Kurt could smell the subtle musk of his cologne. It was nice. It made him light-headed. Or maybe that was because he was breathing much faster than he should be. He tried to force himself to slow down while he wondered if Sebastian was going to touch him – and whether he wanted him to or not.

Sebastian didn’t. “It means I think we should get to know each other better.”

This close, Kurt could almost see the color of Sebastian’s eyes – a kind of hazel green he thought. He cleared his throat and when his spoke his voice was steadier than it had been before. “So is this the part where you ask me all my darkest fantasies?”

“God no! Why would I do that? Figuring out all the terrible things you’re afraid to admit to and then making you beg for them is half the fun.”

With that picture in his mind and his traitorous cock twitching happily, Kurt’s voice had no chance. “Only half?” he asked. He was going for glib, but he got something that sounded right in the middle between terrified and aroused. Which was fitting, he had to admit. “What’s the other half?”

“Having your body at my disposal to fuck when I want, where I want, how I want, and as often as I want.” Sebastian tossed it off with none of Kurt’s breathless tremors.

Sebastian was giving him the full press now, going one hundred percent dom, looking at Kurt like he was imagining even now the various ways he could make use of Kurt’s body. And Kurt liked it. He felt a sudden overwhelming desire to lean forward and run his tongue across Sebastian’s full bottom lip, just to taste it. That was the alcohol talking, he was sure, but he was reaching the point where he didn’t care.

But Sebastian was still talking. Kurt dragged his attention away from lips and back to words.

“. . . every kink known to man and taking all the mystery out of it, but I told you I’m not good with rules. I mean, safeword, of course, and I’ll definitely want to know your hard limits before we do anything serious, but honestly, I have no interest in knowing what you want.”

“What?” Kurt’s brain was still trying to catch up.

“I’m not like most dominants. I think you get that or you wouldn’t still be sitting here. I don’t negotiate with submissives. So the way this goes is, I tell you what I want and then you get to decide whether you think you can provide what I want.” He leaned closer, putting those lips in tantalizing range, and raised his eyebrow again. “And believe me when I say that if you do choose to go down this road with me, it’ll be the last choice I ever give you.”

Something inside Kurt split open at those words, like a seed breaking its casing and falling to fertile ground. Sebastian’s words were just like all of Kurt’s darkest fantasies: they set off alarm bells in his higher brain but made his pleasure centers sing with excitement. He ran his fingers over the fabric of the couch and tried to pull all the parts together.

“So what you’re saying is that you’ll be the one to reveal your darkest fantasies, and then I can walk away without telling you anything,” Kurt said.

“You’ve already told me everything that counts. But yeah. Considering all the things you’ll be giving up to me, I think it’s only fair that I put myself out there first. See, you’re not the only one who’s one of a kind.”

Kurt knew whatever courage he was feeling came from the alcohol but he didn’t even care. He wanted to hear Sebastian’s fantasies. He inclined his head, graciously, he hoped. “Okay. I’ll play. Tell me your darkest fantasy.”

Sebastian laughed. Kurt liked his laugh. It was clean and unforced. It was also strange to hear the laughter clinging to his voice when he said, “I want a slave.”

It hit Kurt hard, in the center of his chest, and he was rendered speechless yet again. Thankfully Sebastian didn’t seem to mind. “That’s it,” he went on. “Bottom line, I want someone who will submit himself to me in every possible way. Someone who’ll spend every free moment at my apartment, naked, usually in some kind of bondage, doing absolutely anything I tell him to do. He’ll cook, clean, obviously serve me sexually. I’m a sadist, so there’ll be plenty of torture. Rules will be strict, and the slightest violation severely punished. Every day will be a struggle to please me just so he’ll be allowed to serve me again the next day. And he never, ever comes.”

“God, stop, please,” Kurt held up a hand as if to ward off Sebastian’s words. It was overwhelming and Sebastian was so close, looming over him, and Kurt’s dick was pressing so hard against his pants that it was starting to hurt. “I just need a minute. You don’t mince words, do you?”

“You asked for my darkest fantasy,” Sebastian said. He put an arm along the back of the couch, enhancing Kurt’s feeling of being surrounded by his body.

“He never comes?” It was hard to force the words out.

“I’m not one of those doms who believes in rewarding subs with orgasms. You’re there to please me. You only come if for some reason it’ll give me pleasure to let you. Did I mention that I’m a sadist? Ninety-nine percent of the time it’s _not_ letting you come that gives me the pleasure. If you’re not into strict, relentless chastity, I am not the dom for you.”

Kurt didn’t miss the pronoun change from _him_ to _you_. Neither did his dick.

“Your cock will go in a cage and only come out when I want to play with it. I will hurt it in every way you can imagine and some you haven’t even dreamed of. And then I’ll tease it for hours while you beg me for mercy. I never get tired of hearing a sub beg. Your balls will pretty much never stop aching.”

Kurt wanted to be appalled. He so wanted to be. But there was no room for appalled inside of him. Too many other emotions were jostling for space where appalled should be and none of them were helping him figure out how to breathe.

Sebastian just looked at him and smiled like he had no idea what havoc he was wreaking. It was a good act, but Kurt was sure he knew exactly what he was doing. He was sure Sebastian always knew exactly what he was doing.

“Still want to play?” Sebastian asked with a smirk.

Speaking was not a thing Kurt was going to be doing.

Sebastian didn’t seem fazed by that at all. Still smirking in that knowing way he dug into his pocket and pulled out a card. He set it on the table next to Kurt’s drink.

“That’s my number. So it’s all up to you now.” He stood up and Kurt had to suppress the urge to reach for him and pull him back down. “Go home. Think about what I said. Jerk off. And if you come harder than you’ve ever come before, call me.”

And then he was gone, like a vanishing magician.

Kurt stared at the white card on the dark wood of the table and waited for his dick to calm down so he could walk across the bar with a little dignity. In the end, though, dignity proved unattainable. He walked back past all of Rumpelstiltskin’s straight patrons with a hard-as-nails cock trapped in his pants and a little white card clutched in his fist.


	5. Chapter 5

Sebastian was vibrating with excitement. Literally. Every time he lifted his beer to take a swig the bottle, backlit by the television he was pretending to watch, trembled like a leaf about to take its death plunge to the ground. He didn’t even try to control it. There wasn’t anyone to see him. It was still early enough on a Saturday night that it felt weird to be home , but after all he’d been through the last thing he wanted was noise and people.

Since the moment he’d let the door of Rumpelstiltskin close behind him and flagged down a cab he’d been hosting a raging debate with himself about whether he’d made the smartest move ever or been a total fucking idiot. The jury was still out. Walking away from the most interesting, challenging submissive he’d met in – well, maybe ever – without any way of ever finding him again certainly seemed like height of stupidity. But it had _felt_ right, and Sebastian loved nothing more than abandoning sense and reason and operating on instinct alone. It was an amazing rush, and Sebastian was an avowed adrenaline junkie.

One more swig finished his beer and Sebastian set it on his coffee table and stared blindly at the sports stats scrolling across his muted television screen.

His name was Kurt. That and the fact that he could throw an epic bitch face were literally all Sebastian knew about the man who’d managed to knock him off his feet tonight. God, it was ages since he’d had so much fun doing the figuring-each-other-out dance. Kurt had been all prickles and defense, zigging whenever Sebastian zagged and doing everything he could to hide his need and desperation. But Sebastian could _feel_ it, from the first moment he’d noticed Kurt staring. And the longer they talked the more Sebastian began to suspect that the depth of Kurt’s desire was directly proportional to the effort he put into hiding it.

Sebastian took a deep breath and let himself think the thing he’d been trying not to think since Kurt had invited him to spell out his darkest fantasy then practically exploded when he did.

He could be the one.

Sebastian had always been dominant. Always. From cops and robbers when he was six to movies that had any hint of bondage to his first forays into the wide world of Internet porn, it had always been crystal clear what he responded to. Of course, it wasn’t until the porn stage that he fully understood the things he’d felt as a child when he tied Jimmy Mason to a tree or slapped his toy handcuffs on Adrian Singmaster. In fact, looking back he was pretty sure Adrian was as much of a budding submissive as he himself was a dominant – that little shit somehow always managed to get captured first, and early, so he spent the longest time of any of his playmates cuffed and locked in whatever jail they’d created for the game.

Sebastian’s sex life, once he had one, had quickly graduated from vanilla to kinky. And he’d grown over the years, experimenting and expanding.  There was no self-serving hyperbole in calling himself an experienced and imaginative dominant. But as much fun as he had with the many men he’d played with, Sebastian was still waiting for that one submissive – and he’d almost swallowed his teeth when Kurt had said it about himself – who would truly deserve him and his most extreme fantasies. Oh, there were hundreds upon hundreds of desperate submissives just in New York alone who would have happily crawled for him. He hadn’t been kidding about dominants being in short supply and as a young, hot, gay top he could really have his pick. But Sebastian loved a challenge. He didn’t want someone who would lay out all his fantasies and wait breathlessly for Sebastian to fulfill them. He wanted someone who would test him as much as he tested them. He wanted someone worthy of the imagination and effort he put into them.

Needless to say, that was not a kind of person he encountered every day. Or, in his experience, ever.

And then tonight Kurt, watching him. Sebastian had almost dismissed him. From a distance he’d looked fragile, one of those types who’d start sobbing and safewording if you took one tiny step beyond a soft limit. But once Sebastian got close enough to really see, it was obvious that there was some serious iron underneath that deceptive exterior. He’d given nothing away. He’d made Sebastian work for every concession and Sebastian had rarely felt so electrically alive as he had feeling Kurt out and looking for his openings; deciding when to hang back and when to push in hard. It had felt like walking a tightrope a thousand feet high as he tested the ground, moving forward then retreating until he found his opportunity and attacked. And Kurt’s face as he’d listened to Sebastian’s fantasy, the way he squirmed around his obviously hard cock – it had made Sebastian hard just watching him. Fuck, he had a semi right now just thinking about it. There was some serious depth to this Kurt, he was sure. And he’d just walked away. He’d gambled on the hope that his show of confidence would be just the thing Kurt needed to seal the deal.

He sighed and reached for the remote to click off the TV. In darkness lit only by the clock on his microwave he took his beer bottle to the kitchen and dropped it in the bin he kept for recyclables. Kurt, if he was home by now, was certainly jerking himself off to thoughts of Sebastian, and Sebastian figured the least he could do was return the favor. He headed toward his bedroom, the semi in his pants going full-blown in anticipation.

His phone blared, pulling him back to the coffee table to snatch it up. It was a number he didn’t recognize. He sucked in a sharp breath and berated his cock for throbbing happily. Probably just somebody selling something. He thumbed it on.

“Hello?”

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian’s heart sped to triple time. There was no mistaking that light, high voice. “Yeah?” he asked. His voice came out steady and only mildly inquisitive, despite his heart. After all, what kind of dom would he be if he couldn’t control something so simple?

“It’s Kurt.” Kurt’s voice was not at all controlled, Sebastian was happy to note. It was breathy and trembly, like he’d just run a mile. Or had an amazing orgasm. “Kurt from the . . .”

“I know,” Sebastian said. “I didn’t expect to hear from you until tomorrow. That must have been one hell of an orgasm.”

“No,” Kurt said.

What? “It . . . wasn’t one hell of an orgasm?”

“I didn’t have one. An orgasm.” _Orgasm_ came out louder than the rest of Kurt’s words, like he wasn’t quite used to saying it out loud.

“You didn’t jerk off?” Sebastian asked. Was he losing his touch? Had he completely misread the situation?

“No, I did.” The words came out slow, each its own sentence; Kurt forced them from his mouth one by one.

“Wait, you jerked off but you didn’t –” Sebastian began, confused, but then it hit him like a hammer between the eyes and even he couldn’t control a tiny gasp. “You didn’t come.”

“Right.”

Sebastian wanted to shout. How had this prickly, bitch-faced boy already managed to exceed his not-inconsiderable expectations? “So why didn’t you come?” he asked, gripping the phone tight.

There was a long silence on the other end. Then, “I think the dominant who deserves me would know the answer to that already.”

Sebastian laughed quietly, all control. “Nice try. And you’re right. But the dominant you deserve would make you say it anyway.”

There was a tiny sound Sebastian couldn’t interpret. It might have been Kurt whimpering. Then again it might have been his cat sneezing in the background.

“I guess I thought you would like it more if I didn’t.”

Sebastian decided it was a whimper after all. Kurt’s words made his dick throb. But he wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. “And?” he prompted.

Another stretch of silence. “And . . . I might have been trying to impress you.”

He was impressed. Mightily. But not done yet. “And?” he said again, making it sharper, trying to sound like the whole process of getting to the bottom of Kurt’s motivation was starting to bore him.

“And . . .” it came so quiet and this time a tremble betrayed just how much he was getting to Kurt. “I want to come but I _don’t_ want to come more.” Kurt dragged it out word by word again, like it hurt to speak.

“There we go,” Sebastian said, making sure his voice dripped with approval. On the other end Kurt sighed before he could stop himself. “Next time how about we skip straight to the bottom line?”

“Next time?” Kurt asked.

“I’m beginning to suspect you may be as good as you think you are. In any case, I’m willing to investigate further.” There was a sound like a puff of air. Was Kurt laughing at him? It should have made him angry but he found himself smiling instead.  “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Good. My apartment at noon. I’ll text you the address.”

“I’ll be there,” Kurt said, breathy but certain.

“And one more thing. I want to be really clear about this. You don’t belong to me,” Sebastian paused for effect, “yet. So if you decide not to make yourself come tonight, that’s completely on you. I don’t really care if you have a dozen orgasms between now and noon tomorrow. In fact, given what you may be walking into, I’d recommend that you do.”

“I won’t,” Kurt said without a hint of hesitation.

Sebastian’s smile widened into a full-on, teeth flashing grin. “Good.”

Later, in his bed holding his softening dick and still a little light-headed from the force of his orgasm, Sebastian realized that the debate in his head had been won. “Smartest move ever,” he told the ceiling with a woozy smile.


	6. Chapter Six

By the time his doorbell rang at noon the next day Sebastian was dressed, coiffed, and in complete control. The boy on the other side of the door would never know he’d been awake most of the night swinging between masturbating and running scenarios for today through his head. He would never know how badly Sebastian wanted to find the right approach to seal this deal. At least, not unless Sebastian decided to let him know. He radiated the confidence and control that, in his experience, every submissive responded to. Kurt was unique, but he was still driven by the fundamental needs all submissives felt. He bounced on his toes before he opened the door, centering himself. He’d only baited the hook. The fish still had to bite.

When Sebastian opened the door said fish stood tall and stiff, staring him down like a defiant kitten facing down a pit bull. He was dressed . . . well, he was very much _dressed_ , in more layers of clothing than Sebastian could remember seeing on one person before. Including a long, thin scarf wound around his pale neck, although Sebastian was sure it wasn’t cold enough today to need one. Sebastian didn’t try to hide the laugh that bubbled in his chest. “You look like you’re about to march into battle,” he teased.

“Aren’t I?” Kurt asked, arching a haughty eyebrow.

“Well that’s completely up to you sweetheart.”

Kurt only stood and stared, until Sebastian gave way, bowing him into the room with a sweep of his arm.

He looked good, despite the layers. Or maybe because of them. It seemed obvious to Sebastian that the layers were a reaction to _him_ , or maybe a challenge. He liked that.

“Something to drink?” he asked casually. “There’s coffee.”

Kurt turned in a slow circle, taking in the room. His eyes dragged across the sofa and chair, and lingered on the granite slab coffee table. “Is that why you asked me to come? To have coffee?”

“It most definitely is not.”

Kurt completed his circuit and faced Sebastian again with his head held high. “Then no, I don’t want any coffee.”

Sebastian smiled. “Well someone’s eager. Or desperate.”

Kurt’s expression shifted into something else Sebastian remembered from the dark club.

“And there’s the bitch face! I thought it would take a _little_ longer to get you worked up to that point. I have to say,  I’m kind of impressed with myself.”

Kurt’s ears went pink, but the bitch face remained firmly in place.

Sebastian decided to strike while the iron was off balance. “So how’d you sleep last night?” he asked with a smirk.

Kurt lifted his head even higher. “I slept just fine.” He stared at Sebastian like he expected a response but Sebastian only stared back. “I didn’t come, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

“Really? Well I did,” Sebastian said. He didn’t bother to try not to sound smug. “Twice. But I hardly slept at all.”

Kurt’s eyes widened.

“Does it surprise you that I’d tell you that?” Sebastian asked. “It shouldn’t. You should know by now that I’m man enough to let you know when you’ve scored a hit. Thinking about you choosing to stay all hard and wanting, that was definitely enough to keep me up. In both senses of the word.”

Kurt stood still, the pink stain still tinting his cheeks and ears. Sebastian pressed his advantage. “Did it turn you on, knowing that I was probably jerking off to the thought of how desperate you were, having amazing orgasms while you just laid there and throbbed? Are _you_ man enough to admit that?”

The flush darkened. Maybe Kurt hadn’t expected things to get this explicit this fast. But Sebastian could sense already that what Kurt expected was so very much not what he needed.

“Yes,” Kurt breathed in a barely there voice.

Sebastian moved; he stalked around Kurt so he could lean into him from behind to whisper in his ear. “Sorry you didn’t take me up on that drink before?”

“No,” Kurt whispered back.

And fuck if it didn’t make Sebastian _proud_ , proud of Kurt for admitting it, because he could already tell that this wasn’t how Kurt’s encounters usually went and he could see Kurt trembling in fine shudders; he knew without being told that the admission was huge for Kurt. Oh, he was already in so deep. He more than wanted Kurt. He needed him.

He had to stay behind Kurt until he managed to pull his face back to its mask of calm control. Kurt waited, not turning, staring straight ahead, though he hadn’t been ordered to be still. When Sebastian moved back into his line of sight air whooshed out of Kurt’s chest like he’d been holding it until he could anchor himself in Sebastian presence again.

“So what happens now?” Kurt asked in a louder voice, firm despite his trembling, trying to take back some control. “Do we make a contract or –”

“Oh, no sweetheart. You’re getting way ahead of yourself now.”

For the first time the confidence Kurt was trying to project faltered. “But I thought after last night . . .”

“Last night I put myself out to you.” Sebastian made another little circle around Kurt as he spoke, since Kurt had responded so well to the first one. “I told you what kind of dominant I am so that you could decide whether you thought I could be the right man for you. And you’re here, so you obviously decided I can.” He came to rest again in front of Kurt and stared into his eyes and told the biggest lie of his life. “But I’m far from convinced that you can be the sub I need. You’ve told me nothing.”

“I told you I didn’t come last night!” Kurt protested.

“You know, I’m starting to like that bitch face,” Sebastian said as he moved back to sit on the couch, putting his feet up on his coffee table, casual, like he barely cared which way this interview ultimately went. “This is so simple, Kurt. I’m not convinced. Can you be what I deserve? This is your chance. Persuade me.”

Sebastian kept his smug smile in place but he held his breath as he watched Kurt struggle with his order. Maybe he’d turn tail and flee out the door, and Sebastian would spend the next month kicking himself for misreading the situation so badly. But Kurt had said he wanted to be _pushed_. If he really meant that . . .

Sebastian didn’t have to finish his thought because in one lightning moment Kurt’s indecision resolved into something as hard and iron as his poor dick must have been last night. His spine straightened with an almost audible snap and his head went high. Then his fingers – steady now, Sebastian could see even from the distance of the couch – began to unwind the scarf from around his neck.


	7. Chapter Seven

Sebastian had expected Kurt to tremble more – to become more shy and nervous as his layers fell away. He really shouldn’t have. It had been clear from the first that with Kurt you had to expect the unexpected.

His shoes and socks were the hardest. He went for them as soon as the scarf floated down to the coffee table, and he blushed again, a furious red this time, as he pulled them off. Maybe it was because there was simply no graceful way to do it – Kurt held onto one arm of the chair as he lifted first one foot then the other to tug at them. Or maybe it was because he had to look away from Sebastian’s eyes in order to do it. Whichever, as soon as his shoes were set neatly on the floor next to the chair Kurt straightened and pinned Sebastian with his challenging gaze and after that everything changed. It was as if losing each successive layer – and there were a ridiculous number of them – freed something inside of Kurt. He seemed to Sebastian to become more comfortable in his skin as more of it was put on display. And yet he hadn’t seemed uncomfortable in his clothes. Another puzzle Sebastian was itching to solve.

Jacket, tie, waistcoat, shirt, undershirt – all peeled away and were laid neatly over the arm of the chair. Sebastian couldn’t take his eyes away from Kurt’s performance, and that’s definitely what it was. Kurt held his gaze as he stripped, revealing wiry muscle and toned abs, and dark nipples that contrasted with his skin and made Sebastian’s mouth water to taste them. They were tiny little buds that hadn’t been worked yet, Sebastian could see, not properly at least. It was entirely possible Sebastian would be the first to teach Kurt how beautifully his nipples could be hurt. Sebastian’s cock thickened in his trousers at the thought.

Kurt paused after pulling off his undershirt, still staring his special brand of bitchy challenge at Sebastian. He was waiting for a reaction but Sebastian held perfectly still and returned his stare, one eyebrow lifted like he was waiting for the real show to begin. Neither of them spoke.

After a moment Kurt reached for the button of his jeans. There was less to remove on the bottom half. The pants came off more easily than Sebastian would have expected given how tight they were. Kurt was left in pair of dark blue boxer briefs, his long legs – hairier than Sebastian expected but he’d definitely fix that – stretching below, muscles flexing in minute twitches. There was twitching under the briefs, too, but Sebastian didn’t look there yet. He was saving that.

Kurt’s fingers hooked into the waistband of the briefs.

“Stop,” Sebastian said. He made it quiet but commanding. Kurt’s hands fell to his sides and he watched and waited.

“I completely appreciate the way you make your case,” Sebastian said, holding Kurt’s gaze and giving him a smile he hoped was less predatory than it felt. “But don’t think I don’t see that this is just a different way of staying in control.” He stood up and sidestepped the coffee table, letting his eyes drop from Kurt’s face to his nipples to the enticing bulge in his underwear. Kurt tensed as he came nearer, waiting for a touch Sebastian was sure. Sebastian wanted to touch. His dick really wanted to touch. But Sebastian could defy expectations just as well as Kurt could. “Turn around,” he said. He wiggled a finger in the air in case Kurt needed a demonstration.

Kurt turned, spotting Sebastian like a twirling ballerina.

His back was almost as lovely as his front. Broad shouldered, tapering down gracefully to his narrow hips. Sebastian loved a beautiful back. As a dominant you saw a lot of backs, between the kneeling, the hands-and-knees fucking, the spanking. Kurt’s back was the kind you could stare at without getting bored. It was the kind you could imagine punishing with a single-tail whip, bringing up blue and purple welts as he twisted and cried.

And then there was his ass. That, even more than the bulge, made Sebastian anxious to get Kurt’s last bit of clothing shed. Sebastian was most definitely an ass man. A beautiful ass was like a target: for punishment or pounding. A beautiful ass beckoned and invited its own torment. Kurt’s ass was firm and strong, Sebastian could tell even with the underwear on. But he really wanted to see it bare.

“Turn back,” he commanded and Kurt obeyed immediately. Sebastian didn’t bother to go back to the couch. He sat right down on the coffee table (it could take his weight and more, he knew from experience), next to Kurt’s discarded scarf, at eye level with his dick. “I might as well see the rest of what I’m considering owning.”

Kurt flushed again at that but he met Sebastian’s eyes as he turned – looking down at him now – and once again hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his briefs. He paused, waiting for another command maybe.

“Well, go on,” Sebastian prompted.

Kurt obeyed.

He hadn’t been waiting for instruction, Sebastian realized as the briefs slipped down Kurt’s legs. It had been a dramatic pause. The cock that flexed up as it was freed from constraint made all thoughts of fine asses fly far, far out of Sebastian’s head. He could only stare as he took it in, and wish he’d gone back to the couch. He was too close. He needed _perspective_. He needed . . .

He remembered that the cock was attached to a person and looked up to find Kurt smiling down at him like he’d just scored the winning touchdown in overtime.

“That is . . . magnificent,” Sebastian breathed. Because _fuck_.

Sebastian couldn’t have said what made one dick more aesthetically pleasing than another. Take away actual functional factors like length and girth and they should all be pretty much the same. But there were pretty cocks and there were ugly cocks and then there were cocks like Kurt’s. Kurt’s cock was a work of art. It was big, but perfectly in proportion. Longer than Sebastian would have expected, and thicker, curved in just the right way, not too bulbous, so many different things made it exquisite. Sebastian wanted to wrap his lips around it and see how deep it would fit in his throat and what kind of noises Kurt would make when he did. Instead he chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Kurt asked. Sebastian managed to drag his eyes away from the gorgeous organ to see Kurt looking even bitchier than usual.

“Relax. I was just thinking of the cry of despair that’s going to go up from bottoms everywhere when I lock that thing in the tiniest cock cage I can find.”

It was a declaration. No more pretending he didn’t intend to make Kurt his. Kurt didn’t speak but he didn’t look away. His hands moved to clasp behind his back. Sebastian had no idea if the gesture was voluntary or instinctive but he didn’t really care. He was done with this teasing dance. Time to seal the deal. He stood but still didn’t touch. He moved behind Kurt again and looked over his shoulder down at that perfect cock. They were inches apart – he could feel warmth from Kurt’s back – but he stayed where he was and didn’t close the gap.

“So how long has it been since you’ve let that beautiful dick shoot?”

Kurt held perfectly still but his voice was high and breathy. “About three weeks,” he answered, not looking back, his hands still clasped.

Sebastian laughed again. “Still trying to be in control. It’s cute how you’re pretending that I’m the same as all the candy-asses who’ve tried and failed to dominate you properly. Let’s try that again, shall we?”

Kurt took a deep breath. It hitched right at the end and the hitch continued in his voice as he answered. “Eighteen days,” he said. “And four hours.”

“So much better,” Sebastian purred. “And when you came eighteen days and four hours ago, how long had it been?”

“Twenty-three days.”

“And did you mean to come, that time?”

Kurt kept facing forward but his fingers gripped each other tighter. “No.”

Kurt’s grip on himself was as tight as his fingers and how Sebastian wanted to break it. He longed to see this boy finally give in, collapse, and let Sebastian take him wherever he wanted. He longed to feel Kurt’s weight fall in his arms.

“No?” he asked.

“I wanted to go for a month,” Kurt said.

“So why did you come?”

“I couldn’t . . . it just happened.”

“It just happened? All by itself?”

“I lost control!” Kurt burst out louder than he’d been yet. “Is that what you want to hear?”

Even through his outburst he stayed where he was, facing away from Sebastian behind him.

Sebastian wrapped one hand around Kurt’s clasped ones, a reward for his honesty. Kurt started when they touched, but then his shoulders dropped and his breath released on a long exhale.

“That is exactly what I want to hear,” Sebastian told him. “Have you ever managed to go a month?”

“No,” Kurt said, quieter now.

“And why is that, do you think?”

Sebastian expected another outburst but Kurt’s voice was resigned, defeated. “I can’t do it on my own. I need . . .”

“You need . . .?”

“I need help. I need someone to get me there. I need someone to _make_ me.” It came out stronger and full of emotion. It was a confession and an admission and a plea, all at the same time. Sebastian wished he could see Kurt’s face but he didn’t want to move.

They were still only touching in the one spot, the only place they’d ever touched so far, and Kurt was trembling but his breath was slow and controlled and his dick was bouncing with excitement. Sebastian’s would have been bouncing too if it wasn't held back by his own slacks. He wanted more. He wanted a lot more. He knew the protocols. They should stop and discuss and write things down. But he felt in his bones that if he tried that he’d lose Kurt. No. His fish metaphor from before was right. It was time to yank the rod and start reeling.

“What’s your safeword?” he whispered in Kurt’s ear.


	8. Chapter Eight

 “Polyester,” Kurt murmured, the word dragging out on his breathy exhale.

“Wait . . . really?”

Kurt’s head turned, one eyebrow arched up and damn if Sebastian didn’t already love the way he could go from dizzy with arousal to sarcastic attack in less time than it would take anyone else to register his response. “Can you think of anything less sexy than polyester?” he asked pointedly.

“I absolutely can,” Sebastian retorted. “But I have no problem believing that you can’t.”

Kurt’s blue eyes narrowed. “There is _nothing_ less sexy than polyester.”

“How about,” Sebastian said, letting his eyes go narrow in imitation of Kurt’s, “we don’t talk about what’s _not_ sexy when I’m holding your dick.”

Before Kurt could open his mouth to reply that he _wasn’t_ , Sebastian wrapped his fingers around that heavy shaft and Kurt’s protest expired in a long exhale that voiced both relief and arousal. His head dropped back onto Sebastian’s shoulder before he remembered himself and pulled it upright again. His brief lapse thrilled Sebastian but his recovery excited him even more. Anything worth having was worth working for. He stroked Kurt’s shaft slowly, but although Kurt’s breath stuttered in and out with each caress he didn’t let himself fall back again.

That was fine. It was clear Kurt wanted to let go. He just needed some prodding. Sebastian loved prodding. “It’s such a shame,” he said as he opened his hand until he was just sliding his fingertips along the silky underside of Kurt’s dick.

“What is?” Kurt asked. His voice was unexpectedly steady. Sebastian had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. So many lovely walls to bash down.

“Has this beautiful thing ever had anyone to torture it properly?”

A shudder twisted Kurt’s body. “Not yet,” he said, and Sebastian heard the control starting to slip.

“Not until now. But believe me, sweetheart, I’m going to give this cock exactly what it deserves. And the slave attached to it too.”

The _slave_ was a risk, but Kurt’s head wobbled when Sebastian said it, like he’d fallen suddenly off-balance. With that tiny moment of vertigo Sebastian knew exactly what he had to do. He pressed his cheek to the short hair behind Kurt’s ear and let his lips brush the shell. “What do you say? Want to play?”

“I’m standing here naked,” Kurt said, and Sebastian heard the unspoken _you idiot_ loud and clear.

This time he didn’t bother to try to hide his grin. His lips stretched against Kurt’s ear. He wrapped his fingers tighter again and stroked Kurt’s dick with new purpose.

But then fuck, it was wrong, there wasn’t enough slide even with precome easing the way. Sebastian’s eyes darted around the room while he silently cursed himself for his criminal lack of preparation. No lube, no water, no blanket – sure he’d had no idea Kurt was going to get naked right off the bat but Sebastian prided himself on always being prepared for any eventuality. The only gear in the room was the scarf that Kurt had abandoned on the coffee table but, all hubris aside, Sebastian was never going to put anyone in bondage before they’d discussed some ground rules.

A whimper escaped Kurt’s throat, then another and another, punctuating the rough tugs as Sebastian’s fist worked him over.

Well there was no help for it. He’d have to improvise. Sebastian moved so abruptly that Kurt’s eyes flew open and he gasped to see Sebastian suddenly in front him instead of behind, gripping his cock like a rudder.

“Back up,” Sebastian commanded.

Kurt only stared so Sebastian moved, pushing Kurt in front of him by his dick. Kurt stumbled but didn’t fall and then yielded to Sebastian’s momentum until his back thumped against the front door. Sebastian let go of Kurt’s dick and pulled his hands from where they were still clasped behind his back. There was a coat hook screwed into the door and he guided Kurt’s hands up to it. It was only a few inches above his head but Kurt’s fingers curled around it and held tight. His eyes held tight too, watching Sebastian with an expression that managed to be wary, hopeful, and helplessly excited all at the same time.

“Spread your legs.”

Sculpted eyebrows came together in confusion but Kurt did as he was told.

“Wider.”

Each outward step brought Kurt’s head lower down the door. Sebastian prodded until Kurt’s thigh muscles bulged with the strain. Then he leaned so close they could have kissed if Kurt had only lifted his chin. “Don’t move,” he whispered.

The wary in Kurt’s eyes took over as Sebastian let him go and backed away slowly . . . control, always control . . . until he was far enough into his hallway that he couldn’t see Kurt anymore. Then he ran.

Into his bedroom, lube, throw blanket, a few other things that caught his eye – he scooped them into his arms and hurried back. By the time he crossed the threshold into the living room he was the picture of control again. Except for his dick dancing a jig in his pants at the sight before him.

Kurt hadn’t moved. He clung to the coat hook, glorious in his nakedness, his legs spread so wide that Sebastian could see his thighs quivering from across the room. His perfect cock stood up tall, pulsing against his belly. His nipples were dark and erect. He’d turned his face so his cheek pressed into his shoulder and his eyes were closed. Sebastian wanted to keep him there forever, in just that position, just to look at him. And maybe turn him around occasionally to fuck the everloving crap out of him.

He’d taken two steps into the room when Kurt made a noise – a tiny thing, a whimper that might have been need or might have been protest – and Sebastian froze. He noticed suddenly how Kurt’s eyebrows pulled together and how he had pressed his lips into the bare skin of his shoulder as if to hold something in.

Sebastian berated himself again as he dropped everything but the lube onto his armchair and crossed the room. What kind of dom was he? He didn’t know Kurt. He’d left him alone with no idea whether he’d be okay. He didn’t know if the crease in the middle of that smooth forehead came from arousal or the strain of his position or the effort of holding off panic. Maybe Kurt had been whispering _polyester_ the whole time he’d been gone.

“Fuck!” he swore under his breath, pumping lube into his hand as he moved. He wrapped his fingers around Kurt’s cock as soon as he could reach it, holding it firm. At his touch Kurt’s eyes flew open and his head thumped back against the door. There was too much white in his eyes but there was soft arousal too and maybe Kurt needed that – maybe the panic fed his need, Sebastian didn’t know but he wasn’t taking any chances. He squeezed that lovely dick and pushed into Kurt’s space, pressing his body harder against the door and rocking his own cock into Kurt’s hip so Kurt could feel its iron.

“What?” Kurt asked.

Sebastian shook his head. “What what?”

“You said fuck.”

He said it so calmly, with those eyes that reflected both fear and desire. But more desire, now that they were touching. Kurt looked down, down to where Sebastian’s pelvis met his own, and when he looked back there was less fear and more desire.

Relief loosened the tightness in Sebastian’s chest. “Fuck . . . you’re gorgeous like this. I want to tear you apart.” He smiled as he said it, his own desire on naked display. And damned if Kurt’s head didn’t come up higher, confident again in the face of how much Sebastian wanted him. So many dark corners to this one, Sebastian thought. So many surprises. He let his eyes drop to Kurt’s lips – pink and soft but not full enough to be called feminine. Kurt’s head fell back against the door again, still tilted upward. It was an invitation and Sebastian took it. His kiss was light and chaste, a brush of lips that promised rather than plundered, and when Kurt’s tongue tickled his bottom lip he pulled back with another smile.

“Still trying to control things, I see. I’m going to have so much fun breaking you of that habit. I expect it’ll be less fun for you.”

For some reason his threat banished the last of the anxiety lingering in Kurt’s eyes. Sebastian took that as his cue. He stroked Kurt’s cock the way he’d wanted to all along, not too fast but not teasing-slow, firm and controlled and sliding slick. He held Kurt’s gaze and watched desire soften the sharp blue, held and stroked until Kurt’s body melted back into the support of the door just the way Sebastian had hoped before that it would melt into him. Kurt’s eyes fell closed again and his head dropped to the side, pulled by a gravity he didn’t seem to have the will to fight anymore, until once again his cheek pressed into his shoulder. Technically, his tilting head was movement but Sebastian wasn’t going to reprimand him for it. He was too busy watching with avid fascination as Kurt pulled his bottom lip back between his teeth and his breathing sped up, each panting breath bottoming out on a low sound that was too tentative to even be called a moan. But Sebastian knew even that tiny vocalization was a surrender. And the longer Sebastian masturbated him the more Kurt seemed to relax and let himself enjoy it. Maybe it wasn’t so much a matter of him surrendering control, but more that he wanted to be taken like they’d talked about in the bar. Well Sebastian was beyond ready to take him. At the moment he couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more.

Kurt’s cock was thick and hard in his hand. It pulsed against his grip with each long slide and Sebastian ran his palm over the head on each stroke, pushing just to the edge of too much stimulation. He kept going as Kurt lost his grip on his whimpers and pressed his mouth to his biceps to muffle himself. He kept going in beautiful strokes that must have felt like heaven to the boy falling apart in front of him, until Kurt’s head began to shake in the tiniest movement of denial, kept going until Kurt was forced to pull his mouth away again and moan.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

“I certainly hope so,” Sebastian said.

Kurt opened his eyes and tried to focus on Sebastian. “Seriously, I’m going to come.”

“Yes you are.”

Eyes drooped back to closed and Kurt’s head did that wobble again, like he was listening to a siren call to surrender, so tempted by it. But then he gasped and they flew open, full of alarm, remembering himself. “No, stop,” he panted. But he stayed still against the door.

Sebastian leaned close. “For future reference, those are two words you are never allowed to say to me.”

“Please . . .”

“Shut up and do as you’re told. Come. Now.” He twisted his wrist hard, thumbed the slit, and watched as Kurt moaned long and low and his cock began to spurt. The pale body shuddered against the door and he didn’t bother to hold back his sounds as his orgasm rippled through him. It was beautiful watching him come. So beautiful that Sebastian was almost – almost – sorry he wouldn’t be seeing it very often. The muscles in Kurt’s face went slack and his lips parted in soft abandon, summoning the merest shadow of a smile as his eighteen days of denial came to an end in sweet relief. Warm fluid spilled over Sebastian’s fingers as he stroked Kurt through his release, not stopping until the cock in his hand started to soften and the noises coming from Kurt’s throat began to tip from pleasure into pain. Then he cradled the sated flesh and waited.

When Kurt’s eyes fluttered open they were full of confusion. “Why –?”

“You don’t get to ask that, ever,” Sebastian told him. “Now remember you’re not allowed to move.”

Kurt’s mouth opened again, probably to ask why again, but his potential disobedience was cut off by a cry of pain as Sebastian tightened his grip on the now-soft cock in his hand and with Kurt’s semen adding to the lube stroked even faster and harder than before.


	9. Chapter NIne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don't follow me on tumblr: I'm still here. I've been a little distracted by the bloodless coup of the American government, but I've come to a place where I figure I'd better write as long as it's still legal to do so. That's only a tiny bit of hyperbole. I hope my country's institutions can save us from this tyranny, but I'm not 100% convinced.
> 
> But enough of that! My plan right now is to finish this story, then take up the Advent fics again and get that freaking done! THEN I'll move on to 50s Klaine as I've been promising forever. Thanks, everyone, for hanging in there. <3

If Kurt in the grip of orgasm was beautiful, Kurt in pain was transcendent. One surprised cry was the only sound he made; his lips pressed tight to stifle himself as Sebastian kept pulling on his oversensitive dick. His body strained against the door. The only thing that wasn’t rigid was his cock, but Sebastian worked it as fast and furiously as he had when it was hard. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut but he couldn’t hide from Sebastian – the play of muscles straining across his face and neck told the story of his dismay and confusion, pain and determination as eloquently as words.

Sebastian had never seen anyone straddle the line between _cute_ and _mother-fucking badass_ the way this naked boy pressed against his door was doing. He stroked harder, pushing. He was sure it wouldn’t take long. The boy he’d met last night, the boy who’d stripped his clothes off at the tiniest challenge – Sebastian’s instincts told him that that boy had been keeping himself going with fantasies and porn for far too long. This had to be his wildest dream come true. There was no way his cock could resist that.

“Come on,” he said low in Kurt’s ear. “You can’t tell me that’s all you’ve got after eighteen whole days.”

“And four hours,” Kurt ground out through clenched teeth.

Sebastian laughed out loud and Kurt’s eyes flew open – a response to his laugh, Sebastian thought, but then he felt Kurt’s cock start to push back against his fingers.

“Oh my God.” Kurt’s eyes sought Sebastian’s, surprised, like he hadn’t really believed his body could rise again. Sebastian smiled back at him. He tried to look approving but from Kurt’s reaction he landed much closer to predatory. But that seemed fine with Kurt’s cock. He slowed his strokes, coaxing the beautiful dick back to full erection.

“Shit . . .” Kurt breathed.

“Hasn’t anyone ever forced you to come twice in a row before?”

Kurt shook his head – a tiny, abrupt spasm.

“You should relax and enjoy it while it lasts.”

Sebastian wasn’t planning to let it last long. Two pumps of lube and he was back to stripping Kurt as fast as his hand could fly, forcing him down the path to release with no real time to process the shift from pain to pleasure. With his other hand he grabbed Kurt’s balls and rolled them against each other until Kurt was gasping and the muscles of his ass shook with the effort of holding back the instinct to thrust.

“Oh God, fuck, I’m going to come again . . .” Kurt said, and Sebastian wanted to laugh again at his utter surprise.

The second orgasm wracked Kurt’s body harder than the first. The shuddering convulsion that tried to force his torso to curl away from the door seemed out of proportion to the thin spurt of fluid his cock managed to produce. His eyes closed again as he fought to stay still under the onslaught of sensation but he did it, he kept his shoulders plastered to the wood as spasm after spasm twisted through him and Sebastian didn’t much care what Kurt’s opinion was anymore, he was keeping this boy if he had to sell his very soul to do it.

He was also going to get one more orgasm out of him.

He didn’t stop stroking, didn’t give Kurt any time at all to enjoy the afterglow, he didn’t even bother to slow down like he had the first time. The change took longer this time. Sharp whimpers bled into Kurt’s pleasured moans. Involuntary twitches marred the softness in his face.

“No, please, stop,” Kurt panted, each word louder than the last as his cock finally realized that it was still being violently stimulated. He pulled away from the door, trying to escape, but Sebastian shoved him back with a forearm across his chest.

“I told you already, you don’t get to tell me to stop. Ever. And if you fucking move this ends right here. You’ll put those clothes on and go home and we are _done_.”

It was the emptiest threat in the history of threats; Sebastian could only hope Kurt was too far gone in his pain to realize that.

Kurt’s eyes stayed closed but he swallowed his protest and the muscles around his mouth tightened with renewed determination. Sebastian moved back and Kurt was forced to stand on his own again. The overstimulation had to be excruciating but Sebastian wasn’t going to let that stop him. It was hard to stroke properly with Kurt’s flesh soft and floppy in his grip, so he rubbed his thumb around the head, polishing without mercy. Strangled whimpers escaped Kurt’s self-control but still he forced himself to stand rigid against the door and endure Sebastian’s torture.

Sebastian was pretty sure he was in love.

“I can’t . . . I can’t come again,” Kurt whispered.

“You’ll do what I tell you to do.”

“Please . . . it hurts . . .”

Sebastian dug his thumb in harder. “You’re a masochist. Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

At those words, something crumbled inside Kurt. His mouth fell open on a cry and tears welled under his lashes and spilled down his cheeks. He began to chant between half-voiced sobs, “Please . . . please . . . please . . .” And yet he _still_ didn’t move, not even to shake his head as he begged.

Sebastian tugged, pulled, stroked, squeezed, and Kurt took it all but his cock still flopped soft in Sebastian’s hand. Sebastian realized he’d backed himself into a corner. He didn’t have an exit strategy.

“You want this to end?” he asked.

“Please . . . please . . .” Kurt kept up his chant.

“The only way out is through.” He wasn’t sure if he was telling Kurt or himself.

“Please . . .”

“Come on,” Sebastian goaded. “Where’s the bitch I met last night? You remember – the one who told me he was one of a kind?” He hissed in Kurt’s ear and squeezed his cock. “Was that true? Or are you no better than all the other useless submissives who’ve ever disappointed me? You’re not even worth my time, are you?”

“I am,” Kurt insisted.

“Really? Your limp dick says you’re not.” Sebastian reached for a dusky nipple, pinched and twisted it hard. “Come on, _bitch!_ Do as you’re told.”

Kurt wailed, loud enough that Sebastian felt a momentary twinge for his neighbors, but then the flesh in his hand began to thicken and he wanted to shout too.

“Oh, you like that, do you? Alright bitch,” he twisted the nipple again and Kurt’s cry was louder, full-throated, control abandoned, “prove you’re better than everyone else. Show me you deserve this.”

Kurt was hard now, that gorgeous dick full once again, and puffing like a steam engine, and Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief because he had no idea what he would have done if Kurt’s body had called his bluff. But it didn’t matter; they were full speed ahead. Kurt was crying freely, the tension dripping out of his body with the tears that fell, and when he began to thrust into Sebastian’s hand, sobbing louder with each painful slide, Sebastian didn’t reprimand him.

“There we go bitch.” Kurt’s chest twisted at the _bitch_ , like he was trying to escape the word, but he moaned and thrust faster. “Maybe you are worth my time after all.” Sebastian crooned against Kurt’s ear. “Such a slut. Two orgasms and still not satisfied. You’d better enjoy this, because I’m going to lock you up until you can’t even remember what an orgasm feels like.”

He was close, Sebastian didn’t need Kurt to tell him this time. Not that Kurt could have. He was lost in the havoc Sebastian was wreaking on his body and Sebastian couldn’t have said if he was in more pleasure or pain but whichever it was, Kurt was all in now. He chased his release with fierce pumps of his hips, moaning, sobbing, until his mouth fell open and his hips lost their rhythm.

“Come for me bitch,” Sebastian commanded.

The orgasm hurt like hell. Sebastian could feel it against his own body as he pressed Kurt into the door again, holding him up in case his legs gave way. Kurt’s chest bucked against him with each violent shudder; his mouth twisted, teeth bared, his knuckles went white around the coat hook. Absorbing Kurt’s extremis, Sebastian knew he could do this every day for the rest of his life and never get tired of it. His own dick was hard, of course, but that barely mattered to him. Something much deeper and darker reached out from his core and demanded that he make this boy his own.

He waited until Kurt’s body began to calm, his cries fell off to panting sighs, then for the third time he pulled at the flesh softening in his hand. Kurt’s pained cry was free, unchecked by even a hint of restriction, and there was agony in it but no denial, all Sebastian could hear now was acceptance. Of his fate. Of his place. Of Sebastian’s right to hurt him in any way he pleased. That was what finally undid him. He thrust twice against Kurt’s trembling thigh and spilled in his pants like a horny teenager.

Thank God Kurt was too far gone to notice.

Sebastian gave himself a minute to put on his composed face then pulled away to stare at his boy. Kurt’s eyes were closed; his face was a rictus of pain and he shook like a leaf but he stood, even now he held himself up against the door, obeying to the last.

“You can move now,” Sebastian said.

With the disembodied grace of an abandoned marionette, Kurt collapsed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Cute is done!! This was fun and thank you all for reading and commenting!! This 'verse will continue - most immediately in the Bitchmas drabbles which I plan to pick up on right away. :)

He landed on something soft, which surprised his four or so brain cells that were still functioning normally. Soft and lucky, because there wasn’t a muscle in his body capable of flexing to brace himself from the expected slam into hard floor. It was entirely possible he would never move again.

Even with the soft landing, there was pain everywhere. His genitals, of course. They burned like he’d dunked them in scalding water. But they weren’t all. The last orgasm had slammed into him with all the force of a runaway train. Just the thought of moving hurt.

At least he was warm, and reasonably comfortable other than the throbbing. Soothing fingers carded through his hair. He really should make them stop – he’d spent so much time getting every strand perfect – but it felt so good and he didn’t have breath to speak anyhow. So he nestled into the softness and let the fingers caress and with every scritch the pain in the other parts of his body faded and a foggy, contented calm settled in his head.

He didn’t know how long he lay there, but eventually the softness lurched underneath him. He moaned a protest and grabbed at the blanket that covered him.

“I know, but trust me, you’ll be much more comfortable on the couch. And I can’t feel my legs.”

 _I can’t either,_ Kurt thought, but his mouth couldn’t remember how to make words yet.

“Come on. All you have to do is help a little.”

The voice might as well have said _all you have to do is fly,_ yet somehow Kurt found himself lurching upright.

“There we go. Just a couple of steps.”

Kurt’s knees went sideways and the voice grunted. “We are seriously going to have to work on your stamina.”

The vague stirrings of a smart comeback started to form around the edges of Kurt’s brain, but then his body fell into soft cushions and he was too busy surrendering to them to think.

There were noises but he ignored them. He couldn’t ignore the poking at his lips though.

“Drink,” the voice commanded. His lips parted.

He was parched, he realized, his throat aching and dry as the Sahara. He sucked at the straw and sighed when sweet liquid filled his mouth. The sugary juice was a welcome relief until the sharp coldness started to thin the fog in his head. He was pretty sure his respite from pain was only temporary. Still, he whined when the straw was pulled away.

“Take it easy,” Sebastian’s voice intoned. “You already made a mess of my floor. If you puke on my couch we’re going to have a serious problem.”

“I didn’t eat today,” Kurt heard himself admit. “Too nervous.”

Well crap. Who knew that _in orgasm veritas_?

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Kurt managed to open his eyes to watch Sebastian head into the galley kitchen. There was something strange about the way he moved, but though things were starting to come back into focus he couldn’t put a finger on what it was. And it was much nicer to contemplate Sebastian’s ass in his tight jeans. When he reached into an upper cabinet his shirt rode up, revealing a strip of tanned skin above his waistband. It was the most flesh Sebastian had shown yet and Kurt had to squash a twinge of disappointment when the shirt fell again.

Sebastian returned to the couch with a box. He reached in and handed Kurt a pretzel. It was one of those old-fashioned sourdough types, thick and hard. Kurt took it but he didn’t bite. He watched Sebastian settle on the end of the couch and trade the box for the glass of juice on the coffee table.

“Eat.”

It was a command again, and Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he said it, like a threat, and it was really unfair how hot that was.

The threatening look didn’t go away until Kurt began to nibble. They sat in silence while he ate. Eventually Sebastian handed over the juice so Kurt could take another sip. Their fingers brushed as they made the exchange and Kurt stared at Sebastian’s – so long and nimble – so strong wrapped around his dick forcing him to come and come and come . . .

“You have to stop doing that.”

Fortified by pretzel and juice, Kurt found the energy to lift an eyebrow. Sebastian grinned and leaned back in his corner of the sofa, long legs stretching out across the coffee table. “You’re wondering why I made you come. If you start trying to figure out why I do what I do, this’ll never work. You’ll make yourself crazy. And that’s my job.”

Kurt put his juice on the table and pushed himself up higher on the couch. He winced when the movement jostled his balls, but at least he was starting to be able to think again. He wasn’t sure yet whether that was a good thing. He didn’t have any idea _what_ to think about the afternoon’s events. He hadn't expected any of what had happened. Where his sexual desires were concerned – the deepest, most secret ones he hardly dared admit to himself – the things he most craved were interchangeable with the things that most terrified him. Yet he'd brazenly stripped off his clothes and invited Sebastian to . . . well, it was all a blur right now, but the details would come back to him eventually and he had no idea how he was going to react when they did.

Sebastian’s green eyes lingered on him, pinning him to the cushions. Whatever Kurt might think of their unexpected sex, Sebastian seemed nothing but pleased. Kurt wasn’t sure why it was easier to let it all go with those eyes devouring him, but he was grateful just the same. They sparkled – with the memory, Kurt was sure, of what _he_ looked like strung out on pleasure and pain, sobbing, begging. The humiliation of it fluttered Kurt’s belly in all the wrong (right) ways.

“I think . . .” the words caught something in Kurt’s throat and he cleared it with a cough. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask –”

“Okay, this is a one-time deal. Since we just met.” Sebastian reached for the juice and pressed it on Kurt again. “And since you were brave enough to strip for me the minute you got in the door. You came here expecting me to tease you until you couldn’t stand it anymore then send you home with that dick so hard you’d scandalize the entire train. I hate expectations. I pride myself on defying them. And you need to know right off the bat that I was serious last night. This is about me. I do what I want. Most of the time what I want will be arbitrary and contradictory and that’s what has to do it for you. You can have your fantasies and desires but way down deep it has to be about putting yourself entirely at the mercy of a strict dominant sadist. Either that’s what you want, or it isn’t. I made you come because I felt like it. And because you expected me not to.”

He was watching Kurt like a hawk preparing for the killing dive. For a moment Kurt could only try not to squirm as his cock made a valiant but futile effort to thicken. Then Sebastian grinned and lifted one hand. A tape measure dangled from his fingers.

“Also, I need some measurements. And if we do this, I promise your cock is never going to be soft again when my hands are anywhere near it.”

Kurt knew enough to know that he was talking about a cage, measuring Kurt’s dick so that he could keep it under lock and key. _Until you can’t even remember what an orgasm feels like._

“You’d better hurry,” Kurt breathed, before he could change his mind. Before his cock could find the strength to rally.

Sebastian’s teeth flashed and oh that smile, Kurt was sure it would be his undoing. “I’d say you won’t regret this,” Sebastian said as he pulled the blanket aside and reached for Kurt’s balls, “but that’d be a total lie. I’m going to make you regret it over and over and . . .”

*     *     *

In the end Kurt had had to concentrate on his memory of Rachel and Finn singing their priest/nun duet so that Sebastian could get the measurements he needed. Sebastian’s excitement, which bled through even his careful control, didn’t make the job any easier. It seemed Kurt was already primed to be turned on by his newfound dominant’s arousal.

Eventually they got the numbers, and Kurt recovered enough to clean up and wriggle himself painfully back into this clothes. The more he put on the more shy he felt, but Sebastian seemed prepared for that and kept up a matter-of-fact monologue about where and when they’d meet again to start hammering out a contract, and how he expected Kurt to prepare for that. He also cleaned up the mess of Kurt's three orgasms. Another one-time deal, he'd called over his shoulder while he wiped.

When Kurt and the floor were put right, Sebastian walked Kurt to the door but he leaned against it so it couldn't be opened. “You know no contract means officially you don’t have to do anything I say yet.”

“Riiiight,” Kurt said, sensing a trap.

“I’m serious. You can go home and masturbate a dozen times if you want. Nothing I can do about it.”

“So Mr. Arbitrary and Contradictory would never punish me after we have a contract for something I did before?” Saying _punish me_ out loud with Sebastian so close made Kurt’s head feel floaty again.

“Moi?” Sebastian struck an offended pose. “I do have some morals you know. I’ll just find something else to punish you for instead. So jerk away.”

“Good to know I have your permission.”

Sebastian’s eyes darkened at the words and Kurt’s body throbbed at the sight and yes, he might as well admit it, he was deeply, deeply fucked. He reached for the doorknob but Sebastian didn’t move out of the way.

“One more thing . . .” Sebastian said. He took Kurt’s hand from the knob, slid their fingers together and pulled Kurt closer. His kiss came quick, a surprise, but it lingered with unexpected softness and tenderness, and his tongue teased at Kurt’s lips like it was up to Kurt to decide whether to let it in. Kurt wrapped his free arm around Sebastian’s neck and pulled himself as hard against Sebastian’s body as he could, until he could feel taut muscle all around him, Sebastian everywhere. It hurt, everything was sore, but he didn’t care. He parted his lips to taste and be tasted.

Time dilated, like it had after Kurt’s orgasms, he couldn’t have said afterward how long they stood there, learning each other. Eventually they drifted apart, both panting, and Kurt marveled at how Sebastian managed look so dangerous and so impish at the same time.

“I may regret it, but you never will,” Kurt said, because apparently that was the kind of thing wanting to turn Sebastian on made him say.

Sebastian rewarded him with that fierce grin. “Oh, I am counting on that, bitch.”


End file.
